Remember Me
by Virgin Queen 15
Summary: Sarah has lost her memory, Jareth has vowed to leave her in her content life, but traces of mis-matched eyes and soft smirking smiles have kept Sarah from ever forgetting...Same story different title
1. Chapter 1

**Memory lives longer then what it remembers -Lloyd Alexander**

The accident did many things. It took an arm from an infant. It crushed the lungs of a man inward, and he died. It so badly hurt the head of a young girl that her memories were a flood of colors and sounds she couldn't recognize.

She remembered her family to be sure, from little Toby, the infant who lost his arm, her father Robert, who thankfully was not the man who had died, and her step-mother Karen. But many things were lost, important things that had changed her life. When Sarah Williams came home from the hospital she did not hesitate at the mirror of her vanity, she did not smile at the little round crystal on her desk. She did not remember the person who had given her that crystal a month ago on her sixteenth birthday.

When she collapsed in her bed, curled up and fell asleep she did not wake when a soft voice in the darkness whispered her name. She didn't feel the soft leather run across her cheekbone, nor soft hair tickle her cheek when the man leaned down the kiss her forehead.

"Your Majesty?" A soft, though gruff whisper drew Jareth from his kiss to look to the vanity mirror. The King sighed, his mask of cool almost smirking serenity in place. But Hoggle could tell that though the man's expression was cold and distant, beneath the gaze lay a warmth, a sorrow, prepared to pool over the brim out into the world. Prepared, maybe, but Jareth would never allow such a treacherous expression of weakness break thirteen thousand years of a frightening reputation. Oh, no, he was too good for that.

"What is it Higgle?" He asked, uncaring as to how rough his voice sounded. He really didn't care much about anything at that moment.

Hoggle, still privy to his king's inner turmoil decided it was better not to anger him more then what was healthy. The dwarf was, against his good friend's compliments and praise, after all still a coward. "Sir, I was only wonderin', what is it we gonna do?"

"I haven't the slightest inclination of what you mean." Was the response.

But Hoggle refused to give up and he endangered himself of being bogged by his next unruly comment. "Don't be actin' likes a spoiled child Jareth. We need to help the little lady."

"We?" Jareth stood at his full height and Hoggle recoiled. "What ever gave you the impression that_ we_ needed to do anything? Can you not see Hedgewort? She no longer remembers us."

"I don't see how that makes any of this good." Hoggle answered. "She should need us and not know it."

"You cannot need something you know nothing of." Jareth snapped.

"Really?" Hoggle had learned from Sarah the magnificent use of sarcasm. But then his tone grew serious. "Why then did you stand outside Sarah's nursery when she was a little tot? Why did you follow her and ease her when she did not know yous were there? You needed her as much as she needed you. You would be abandoning her if you didn't try to help her now."

Jareth was silent for a long moment, and Hoggle was almost humored to see a strange blush spread across the Goblin King's skin, though it was quickly gone and Jareth cleared his throat.

"My, my Hoggle, has Sarah been helping you improve your articulation skills?"

Hoggle frowned, this time he was angry, not only because of the insult, but because of the pure perturbation Jareth was putting him through. "You'll see how much she needs you." He said.

"Hmnn." Jareth grunted and put a hand on his hip, indignantly waiting for Hoggle to give him a reason to.

But the dwarf only shook his head sadly, turned away and vanished into the glass of the mirror. Jareth watched the little man go, his air holding with great intensity as he struggled against the violent emotions. He didn't want those feelings, those urges and needs, the hungry thoughts to tumble through his walls of stone that protected him from falling to sexy goblin king pieces.

_Well Jareth at least we know your ego needs no soothing. _He turned from where his eyes had been previously engaged to the bed, where curled up in a long blue nightshirt rested a sleeping Sarah. He couldn't help the small smile that broke the strict smirk of his face when she smiled in her sleep, rolled from her back to her side of clung to her pillow. Oh, how he would have loved to be that pillow, if even for a moment.

He let his gloved fingers stroke her hair, which normally hung long and dark, like the rippling waves of a lake at night time, but was now splayed every which direction. He was tempted to remove his gloves and feel her hair with his own skin, but too much of something so forbiddingly sweet may have convinced him to steal her away to the Labyrinth again, memory or not. So he resisted and kept those damn leather gloves on, but let himself kiss her once again. It was gentle, like the first one, though it was not on the forehead. When she had run the Labyrinth two years ago she had done an awful lot of complaining, talking, screaming for help, commanding her companions this way and that and of course said those abominable words. But now, she was silent, her lips, though slightly parted did not move. Her lips had tempted him beyond measure, but to steal her kiss was worse then anything he could ever imagine. So instead of succumbing to the pleasure of such an act of love, his merely kissed her jaw, delighted by the faint taste that was only Sarah.

He stood then and changed from his Fae form to his owl form, the body that he could remain in Aboveground with for as long as he wanted. The mortal word was dangerous to his Fae body, but being a barn owl was easy and his magical disabilities were not so profoundly disabling. Thus changed he perched himself on the space on her shelf of stuffed animals, in place of where the bear with the red ribbon Lancelot once sat and he soon drifted into a gentle slumber, unaware and uncaring that the species of bird he had chosen many years ago as a secondary form was in fact nocturnal.

Sarah's eyes opened sleepily, around her lay the hazy comfort of he room. Not much had changed throughout her life, her posters from musicals, art prints and such things still hung about the walls in miss-matched disarray. Her toys and costumes were still scattered here and there, though they had not bee as frequently used as they once had been. Her books had become a creature on their on, having flooded from her bookcase, drowning the majority of the carpet of her room. She smiled at the organized chaos, pleased in knowing that the room itself was an expression of her and also devilishly happy in knowing it enraged Karen beyond measure.

As if the thought of Karen magically conjured her up in all her blonde, frumpy glory a knock on Sarah's door woke her from her hazy dream-like state of appreciation for her room.

"Sarah?" Karen asked from behind the door.

"Yes?" Sarah said and sat up, smoothing her oversized shirt out and making a brief attempt to calm her hair.

Karen came inside, for once holding her gentle smile rather then curling her nose at the sight of Sarah's room. "How are you feeling sweetheart?"

Out of a new habit Sarah rubbed the small ringed scar on her skull. "Just fine, is Toby awake yet?"

"Not yet," Karen leaned against the door frame, watching her step-daughter. "But you can go get him if you want to, it's breakfast time."

"Cool," Sarah said and stood to hunt for a pair of sweats. Before she could find any Karen handed her a clean pair she'd been holding under her arm. "Thanks." The sixteen year old smiled and even dared to lean up slightly and kiss her step-mother's cheek.

Karen watched the girl go, hopping as she tugged the pants on and stumbled toward Toby's room. "She really has changed." The woman said and smiled. She gave the messy room one last glance before turning to leave; only she paused in slight surprise when she noticed a new edition to Sarah's stuffed animals. A strange little owl. She couldn't remember getting that owl for her, and Robert had been to the store since the accident. Though she could have been wrong, maybe a nurse had given it to her at the hospital as a parting gift and she had not noticed.

She left, not giving another thought to it. Downstairs the Williams family sat assembled around the kitchen island. Robert had made pancakes, and cut up six peaches to set in the center of the table for all to share. In his high chair Toby was making a right lovely mess of his sloppy over-syrupy pancakes and had transformed a fistful of peaches into peach juice within a matter of record seconds.

Sarah was quiet, mulling over her pancakes, picking them to pieces with her fork more then eating them. Karen noticed she was rubbing the scar on her head with a roughness she had not expressed in the hospital.

"Sarah, are you alright?" She asked.

Immediately, the girl's disposition changed. She straightened up, a smile covered her face and her hand dropped from her head instantly. "Yes, I'm sorry, just trying to remember something."

"You…" Robert didn't hide the concern in his voice. "You forgot something?"

The doctors had warned that her memory should be facing some traumas, she should've forgotten important things, considering where the scar was, where she had hit her head. But she had showed no signs of forgetting anything important, so the doctors merely warned her concentration may have been a bit muddled.

"Just where I left my library book." Sarah said that same sweet smile plastered on her face.

At that moment Toby let out a loud screech. "Peeeach!"

Sarah laughed and nodded to Toby. "You bet, squirt, we have peaches today."

"You haven't had any Sarah." Karen noted. She pushed the plate toward her.

Sarah looked from Karen's face to the bowl, her smile dropping away to a parted lip semi-frown. She stared at the bowl, the pink-orange fruit squares sending a strange sweet-spicy aroma her way. It smelled like…music and dancing. It smelled like fear and bliss all at once, and danger above everything. She sucked in a struggling breath, the smell was too…strong and it fogged her mind. Or rather was it clearing her mind? She swayed slightly in her seat.

Then, she lost control, and leapt from her seat and clenched the lip of the bowl and flipped it over.

"No!" She screamed and spun around and began to run. She tripped before she had even made it out of the kitchen and hit the ground with a loud thump. She lay there silently as Karen and Robert fell to her side. She only watched the ceiling, tears streaming down her cheeks, unable to explain why she had done what she had done.

Robert carried her up to her room, laid her down on her bed, grabbed the first stuffed animal he saw and laid it down beside her. Like she was his little girl again. He'd done the same thing when her mother had left, the same when she tripped in the park one day and managed to break her arm when she tumbled down a hill. Now though, the habit was really just a comfort to him, and he hoped against real logic that she would be fine, curled up in her bed.

He left her that way.

Sarah didn't move for a long time, the stuffed owl against her chest almost felt warm. It was summer though and her room was always very humid. She didn't realize for a long time that she was shaking, her body shuddering violently against the little stuffed animal. She wound her arms around it tightly for comfort but released it suddenly when a small low squeak came from it.

The stuffed animal…was not a stuffed animal. Sarah's first reaction was to push it out of her bed. The thing landed on the floor with a thump that made her suddenly regret what she'd done. She rolled to the edge of her bed and peered down cautiously.

The little bird was already sitting up, fluffing his feathers and ruffling his wings. She watched his brief grooming job, curious as to how this little guy had gotten into her room. Once glance at her open window convinced her his appearance was an undetermined accident. But how he had managed to remain still without fluttering in frenzy as most animals she knew did was beyond her knowledge. He noticed her watching him and stiffened, his eyes squinted like he wasn't going to believe what ever she had to say.

She reached a tentative hand down to pat his smooth feathered head. He didn't twitch or move at all, only remained, sitting like a good little dog.

"Well, I'm sorry I pushed you." Sarah said. "But by all rights this is my room and you were intruding."

The owl cocked his head like he had all rights to be there.

It's face made her laugh. "Do you have a home little prince?" She asked and rubbed his chest gently with her fingers.

She should've screamed, run away screaming; the owl shook his head as if to say _no_.

But instead she only blinked, stiffened slightly and retracted her hand from its downy feathers. "You…can you understand me?" She asked softly.

Nodded; _yes_.

"I…I…" Sarah shook her head, it was starting to hurt. She rubbed her scar violently.

The bird's expression looked almost concerned; it hopped easily up on her bed next to her and reached a wing forward to brush across her cheek. She laid back against the pillows, watching the bird make a nest of her sheets and settle down beside her.

"Well," She said after a moment, exasperation condemning her to talk to a bird like he understood her. "Do you have a name?" _Ignore how insane you feel_, she thought, _he's only a bird_.

The owl cocked his head again then shook it, _no_, again.

"Do you want one?" She asked.

He nodded.

"Alright," Sarah felt oddly happy to be granting this little friend of hers a name. "You are a boy aren't you?"

Another nod this time with an angry eye.

She laughed the sound like gentle bells. As if the sound soothed him the little owl crooned gently and moved on graceful, but stubby legs to Sarah, where he curled up against her chest.

"You have a kingly manner, little sir." She said. "Should I call you King?"

A happy hoot against her breast proved he liked the name. And she liked him; she didn't care if he wandered into her room from outside. She loved this new little friend.

"Shall I tell you a story?" She said, and stroked the feathers on his back.

A nod was her answer.

"Alright," She cleared her throat. "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young King who ruled over the land of the goblins." Sarah didn't know where she had heard this story but it was coming to her from a sub conscious place and she couldn't deny it. "And he was a lonely man, though he tried to conceal it and act like a villain. His reputation was widely known for this sinisterly face, though it was not truly who he was. He was a magician, an artist, musician, and a generous caring ruler. One day while passing through the mortal world, he saw a young girl playing outside. She couldn't have been seven years old. Yet she was reciting the most beautiful Shakespeare he had ever heard and he thought she was the most beautiful mortal child he ad ever seen. For her birthday that year he sent her an unmarked package with a special story book from a psychic fairy woman, who told him it was to be her future. Sure enough when she was fourteen years old the story from the little book happened. But it was not to the lonely king's content; he wanted her to stay with him in his kingdom."

The little bird cocked his head in question.

"Why he wanted to her to stay?" Sarah laughed and whispered in the most secretive voice she could. "Because he had fallen in love with the girl."

The bird hooted enthusiastically. It made Sarah laugh. "Well, the girl lived her life, but grew tired of the mundane nature of the mortal world. And she missed the presence of the strange king. So one day she made a wish, a wish that she could go to the king's land. And she did, once there she became invested in all the magic and beauty of the world. Most infatuated with the lonely King. But she would never tell him that, and he would never admit how much he loved her."

The owl made a sound that resembled a low sigh. Sarah thought it a mutual agreement that both characters from the story were very stupid.

Though it was still mid-morning Sarah found it was easy to doze off, with the little bird curled up beside her. Once asleep she began to dream and it was a strange dream…

She wore a white dress, the bodice was generous in it's exposure of her breasts, the skirt was long and silky but parted twice a little below each hip to reveal her long legs. It was pure white and gossamer butterflies were embroidered in silver thread all over the gown. A silver cord was tied around her hips, to hold the dress to her curves. The sleeves were merely long strips of slightly curled lacey material, and she could move her arms about freely and the sleeves hung loose.

She felt oddly magical in the dress, estranged and powerful. Her dark hair hung wild around her, like rippling waves the color of an ember. She sighed and spun around, smiling. But it soon occurred to her that she was not alone, until ten she hadn't even paid a mind to where exactly she was.

She looked up and spread before her was a brightly lit room, a ballroom by the looks of it, only it was full of curtained rooms where she could hear laughter and messy sound of eating. There were tables and chairs scattered everywhere and low hanging chandeliers with little glittering bead strings hanging from them that sparkled almost too intensely for her eyes to bear. She could hear music, but it was soft and strange, mystical and almost familiar. The people around her were obviously enjoying themselves. They were all dressed in lovely exaggerated costumes and masks. Though the masks were something of a feral nature, disturbing and monstrous and devilishly beautiful all at once. She watched them for a moment, her lips parted, and she began to understand how very adult the entire thing was.

Everything about this room was meant to seem enchanting, pleasurable and its source for this definition lay in the things she could not see. The actions of those odd masked dancers behind those silk curtains. She stepped through the dancing crowds with a careful step and as she progressed the music began to grow louder.

Then a creeping feeling fell over her; she was searching…for someone? Or rather something? Whatever it was, she could feel herself occasionally grow close to it only to have it slip away like water out of he hands and she could not detect its trail. For what seemed a long time she searched through the ballroom, tripping over people's shoes, stumbling as they pushed or pulled at her. The one very strong masked man grew a bit too touchy and Sarah cried out angrily as she tried to dislodge herself from the grip.

"Dance with me." A slurred voice came from behind the skull mask. She couldn't see his eyes.

She couldn't deny him either, his meaty arm wound around her waist and brought her struggling to his chest. Soon enough they were dancing across the floor to the music which was changing again from an illusion-like hum and beat, to gentle bells and a faster beat, with the soft strain of violins. Then someone began to sing, a sensual voice Sarah knew she must have heard before that sent chills down her spine and made her forget her crude companion and flow easily into the dance. They circled the center of the room where a pit of pillows lay.

_There's such a sad love_

_ Deep in your eyes_

_ A kind of pale jewel_

_ Opened and closed within you eyes_

Sarah was then passed from her first skull masked partner to another masked man, this one much older, with a puffy gray beard and a red devil's mask. She was dragged across the dance floor again, spinning far too much for her liking.

_I'll place the sky_

_ Within your eyes_

She tried very hard to breathe but the movements as she was passed quickly from devil man to another then another again before three spins could be completed was making these attempts slightly impossible.

Dizzy did not begin to explain how she was feeling. Partner after partner, turn after turn, and a few X-rated touches was beginning to irritate her and this strange grotesque, but attractive dream was turning into a nightmare.

_As the pain sweeps through _

_ Makes no sense for you_

_ Every thrill has gone_

_ Wasn't too much fun at all_

You think? She thought. Do you really think that? Being tossed about a beautiful ballroom by equally beautiful yet frightening creatures was not her idea of fun. The whole thing was however thrilling.

_But I'll be there for you_

_ As the world falls down_

Sarah felt for a moment the soft breath of someone on her neck. It was not cold like the other dancers were, but warm and spicy almost. She turned around quickly but no one new was there. She turned back to her partner, secretly despairing only to be passed from a cold hand to a warm gloved one. She looked up to find a man, masked again like the others, though it was a mask on a pole, and if he intended to dance with her he would need to remove it. Which to her delight he did.

She knew that face.

Terror began to thrash inside her, fighting for a way out. Anger accompanied it, anger and tears.

"Were did you go?" She whispered. "My friend, where did you go?" She was pleading, but she didn't care. He had vanished suddenly. It had all been fine, they had spoken since the incident with civil intentions and like…Hoggle, yes,_ Hoggle_, they had become good friends. But then, in an instant he'd vanished, along with everyone else. Not from her world, but her _mind_.

"I never left," he whispered. "I am with you now. I'm always with you, just call my name."

Of course she would. Right now. But…where was his name? Where in her tattered mind was his god damn name!

"I…" She blinked and more tears began to pour from her eyes, angry tears again but a different antagonism. She raised a hand to the scar on her skull and scratched it angrily, shredding away skin with her nails and drawing blood.

"Sarah." His voice was rigid and he grasped her wrist firmly and drew her hand from her skull. He then wrapped his arms around her and held her shaking to his warm body. "Don't cry you know me, precious, I know you do. Think, you can remember. Please by the gods remember me." The last part was like a lonely prayer.

She tried, but all thoughts were a tumbling jumbled mess, all names, words, endearment were gone from her. She struggled in vain, but slowly it was leaving her, around them the ballroom darkened, the music stopped, and they had only each other, floating in a vast blackness.

She could feel his strong arms around her tighten their hold but she knew it would not last. Soon he would be ripped away from her and she would once again be trapped in that darkness, without even a memory to soothe her.

"I know you." She whispered.

"Precious…" But he faded before he could speak another word. After that she drifted, almost as thoughtless as, one may say, a drunken goblin. Almost, but not yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Never play with the Fae; they only dance in circles –Kimberlee Diamon **

Jareth left her, sleeping softly in the broken morning. After what he learned form her dream he knew where to go, though he also knew he would not like it. He traveled quickly, not bothering to change from owl to man once he reached Underground. He simply continued in a furious flight toward a distant land, everything was distant from the Goblin City of course. What Fae wanted to be around goblins?

The High City, the name still made him snort, being one of the few Fae who knew what 'high' meant in the mortal world, was something of a much grander nature then his own. The land was green and lush, inviting and open. Citizen homes sat here and there, placed in a very large garden to be blunt. The entire city was a garden, with stone paths and elegant statues. The Palace of the Kings sat at its center, also upon the highest plateau of the country. It towered over the city, with long towers and stones covered in moss and ivy. At a distance it looked to be made entirely from foliage. Three statues stood at its gates, almost as tall and moss covered as the towers. The first statue, who stood facing the west was a faceless woman, faceless meaning a silk cloth hung over her face, distorting any features. She wore a long robe that went over her head and covered so much of her only a bit of the tunic beneath could be seen. She stood for the Future. The center statue was that of a man, strong and powerful, his arms opened and up, like he was ready to catch the sun. He wore nothing but trousers, the carver of the statue had been talented to make the clothing subtle, and so one's attention was not drawn away from the strong expressive face by anything. Around his head was a circlet upon which rested the half crescent moon, the symbol of Underground. He stood for the Present.

The final statue was a woman, though she was very different from her faceless, blank sister. She wore next to nothing, save the carved ivy and plants and other foliage her artist had exquisitely created around her. There was something feral in her, dangerous, unruly. Her long tangled hair was woven with leaves and flowers. Her face was strong, almost too strong for a female, but her eyes were large and wide, doe-like, though more near fawn-like. She was standing tall, only shorter then Present by a breath, and her arms were wrapped over her full breasts, one hand slightly extended to hold two figurines. One was a man and one was a woman, though their faces were not nearly as detailed as hers or any of the others. She stood for the Past.

Jareth nodded his owl head slightly to the statues as he flew over them, and for a moment it seemed they bowed back, but the movement was too fast for even a Fae to see. He smiled to himself, as all living creatures did when they passed the Time People, as they were named. It was simply impossible not to.

But once he reached the Palace all warm internal feelings vanished and he felt the ice of his anger begin to creep upon him again. He reached to doors, finally changing to his birth-form, a Fae man again. He stepped past the guards without a glance and escorted himself through the maze of gardens to reach the Grand Hall.

Grand was the perfect name, for the hall was grand, larger then any hall in all of Underground, lit but six brilliantly lit chandeliers. Portraits of every King and his family were hung along the walls, the most recent sporting King Tiran, Queen Elmina and a very grumpy looking six year old son. Jareth avoided looking at that particular portrait, unashamed but still irritated after a thousand years by his father commanding him to sit still while the painter worked.

At the end of the Hall sat three gorgeous thrones. Above the thrones was a stained glass image of a moon, and the three Time People again. In the thrones themselves sat a handsome blonde man, the only indication of age being crow's feet around his hazel eyes and a single streak of grey. The second throne was occupied by a woman, with silver hair the reached almost to the floor and blue eyes. The third throne was empty. Around and near the thrones were gathered many courtiers, ladies and gentlemen, most of them Fae, few of them anything else.

"My son!" The woman exclaimed delighted. But his father's face darkened noticeably, something that did not surprise Jareth, nor disturb him.

"Mother, Father," He addressed them with a formal tone. "I assume you know why I have come."

His mother frowned slightly and then turned to her husband in query.

"Jareth, it is the Counsel's choice, you cannot reckon with me to get your mortal's memory restored."

"Father, she is not simply a mortal." He tried not to sound so perturbed. "She has magic that enables her to withstand the memory of Underground and respect it."

"Magic, my boy, which you gave her!" His father was getting angry, his voice was rising. "Against all laws of Underground, you gifted a mortal with powers, now we cannot remove those powers, but we have full right to remove the memories, she doesn't need to know."

"Damnit Tiran!" Jareth yelled. "She is not an ordinary mortal," His next words were his only argument but he had sworn not to use them for fear of the mockery that he was sure would ensue. "And I have fallen in love with her." _Shit_, as the mortals say.

Around him the room had fallen silent, a shadow had crossed over them and he grew cold. Tiran's eyes were hollow spheres, his expression tight and infuriated. When he did speak his voice was low, like the crack of thunder after a beam of lightning.

"You have damned yourself to love a mortal, with no chance of loving again. I am very sorry my son, but we couldn't restore her memories; it could jeopardize everything we have here. Unless…." His tone changed slightly, a peculiar tone that both angered Jareth and gave him hope.

The Queen smiled her sharp teeth on display.

"Unless what?" Jareth prodded, the helplessness in his voice to difficult to conceal.

"Unless you can win her heart Aboveground and convince her to return with you to Underground. She may have her memories back for the time being, but unless you can woo her, court her even within the length of thirteen weeks her memories will be taken again and you may never go to her ever again."

Jareth felt numb, a feeling he rarely got. But there was still hope, he supposed, it may work. Even so, he had not ever been in love before, of course not Fae only love once, so he had almost no idea how to court her. He'd tried before to be sure, tried to offer her the world, maybe, while looking back at it, it hadn't exactly been the right time.

"I thank you, my father." He said coldly. "Mother." Warm toned of course.

He turned to leave, changing his form almost instantly when he shot into flight, speeding through Underground. But as he for the second time passed over the Time People, he thought he heard a whisper, a gentle one, like a child's almost say to him:

"Love true, Goblin King," It said. "For failure is not to be accepted here, she belongs with us, we implore you to grant us our daughter."

He looked quickly from statue to statue, but none had changed. Then for a quick instant Future's cloth fell form her face, but returned again before he could see. He did not doubt it was her who had spoken.

When he returned to the Williams home Sarah was just waking up. He settled quickly beside her and watched her eagerly with sparkling owl eyes. She rubbed her own eyes vigorously, trying if possible to wipe the sleep out of them.

"Goblin King," She said. "I was wondering if…" She stopped and dropped her hands from her eyes; they landed without check into her lap. She slowly turned her head toward him, her eyes misty.

_Yes, precious it's me!_ He wanted to change to his other form, to pick her up in his arms and spin her around like a child. But he watched with growing frustration as her expression darkened, to a kind of glower to challenge Tiran.

"My…memories." She could hardly force the words out. Then all Hell broke loose. "Get out!" She shoved the bird away from her. Thus pushed he changed to his ordinary form and landed on his knees on the floor.

"Sarah! Calm yourself precious," He almost couldn't contain his blooming exploding elation. He wanted to…what was it mortals said? Jump her bones? Something of that sort anyway… "Please try to calm down, I am not here to steal children or force you to promise me your first born. I just need to talk to you about something."

_You cannot tell her._ Tiran's voice thundered in his head.

"Sir, you're my friend, but hopping into my bed in an owl form when I don't have any memories is not fair at all." She said, and then blushed angrily.

"Well, my love," Sweet little fiery love! "I do believe we've been through this before. And besides you thought I was a stuffed animal"

"You're going to be a stuffed animal if you don't leave for a moment so I can put a bra on!" She was still angry, but a smile had forced its way on her unwilling face.

He returned the smile whole heartedly, but tested his boundaries with a bit of flirting. "But, precious!" He feigned great despair. "You would deprive me of the sight of such lovely breasts when the world I live in is so lacking in a good set?"

Sarah raised a dangerous eyebrow.

"Fine," He stood. He covered his eyes with a gloved hand.

Sarah rolled her eyes, Jareth could be funny sometimes, but his humor just danced along the brink of serious flirtation. It was not unwanted flirting, but for Sarah it was a bit strange coming from...the Goblin King. In a way it was not unnatural, and difficult for her to really be able to comprehend. But when she thought about him in an almost romantic way it made her belly grow all warm and tumbling, like soft melted gold was filling her. The feeling was foreign, though secretly she cherished the thought she banished such imaginations to the back of her mind where it laid almost untouched. She stood from her bed and walked past him, the dark spicy scent he bore drifting on the wind after her. She went to her closet, squished herself inside and shut the doors. She made for a quick change of clothes, from scrappy pajamas, to a blouse almost akin to the poet's shirt she wore in the Labyrinth, but with shorter sleeves and a blue material. She put on jeans as well and put her hair up in a ponytail at the center of the back of her head, her hair was long enough to almost reach the small of her back when up in a ponytail. She came out of her closet and saw Jareth had moved from his standing position to her bed, arms extended behind his head, his linked fingers creating a bridge of his palms for his head to rest in.

She smiled, his eyes were shut. She found a pillow that had strayed from her bed, and she picked it up. _Ready, aim, fire!_ She thought and flung the pillow across the room. It smacked its target with almost perfect precision, engaging a rather strange grunt from the Goblin King. He took the pillow in his hands then looked at Sarah with a wary eye, but it seemed by his face that he didn't quite understand the concepts of a pillow fight.

She laughed. "You can throw it back." She said.

He gave it a mild toss so she would catch it.

"Oh, please," She giggled. "You have to know how to have a pillow fight."

"Is that what we're doing?" He smiled darkly. "Had I known well… I would've played like this."

Sarah didn't even see the pillow come toward her, but the next thing she knew it had smacked her in the face and she had fallen down on the floor on her rump.

"Ooh!" She growled. She jumped up then charged at him, pillows ready for a severe beating of the King.

Jareth was laughing, even as she sat down on him and tried to bury him with pillows. Before she had gotten far his arms broke free of the pillows and wound tightly around her. He rolled until he was over her, pinned down to the bed, laughing hysterically. Then he dove quickly, holding both her wrists together with one hand over her head, he used his free hand to tickle her gently, raising from her a stream of begging.

"Stop! Please stop!" She squealed and writhed violently under him trying to break free of the tickle attack. Her face was bright pink from long expenses of breathless shrieks. "Jareth!"

He froze and looked down at her, gasping and giggling, trying to calm herself down. She noticed the change in his disposition instantly.

"Are you alright?" She said genuine concern in her soft tone. He looked at her, rosy cheeked and a lovely hot mess, her hair almost half way loose of the rubber band, her shirt rumbled. And his heart seemed to melt from its gold solid rock trance to a throbbing beating organ. It shocked him how very much in love he was with her, more then he had ever imagined he could ever be. In truth he never had loved before, and even if he had it would've never been so strong, so burning and desperate as it was for Sarah. Desperate, but he found in his desperation a patience that calmed the beast and tamed it to a very proper creature. It was all confused and strange, like catching a falling star and letting it burn the skin of your hands to the bones just to preserve the beauty of it. So this is love. He wondered aimlessly. Only then did he realize how alarmed Sarah looked. She was watching him as he thought those foolish dreamy thoughts and he'd been too thick to realize.

"I'm sorry precious, I am well," He smiled crookedly. "It's only that you have not addressed me so informally before. Even when you turned sixteen and everyone from the Labyrinth bombarded your house, you were always in check with me."

Sarah's blush crept untamable on her face; it thrilled Jareth but only made it worse for Sarah. It was all very outlandish, him leaning over her, their bodies closer then they ever had been before, but it was a beautiful oddness she found pleasing, and comfortable. "I just always had to consider that one wrong move with the Goblin King and I could very well be…" She paused and mocked his voice. "Suspended head first in the Bog of Eternal Stench."

He threw his head back and laughed a wonderful joyful sound that held no sinister plot, no hints of evil or malice. "You precious! I would never do such a thing to you! Why would I want a friend so dear to smell so horrible?" He snorted like there was deeper meaning to the question. "Either way, that would not be the kind of punishment I would give you." His eyes looked sincere, full of something far away that Sarah couldn't reach. But why reach when he may just hand it to her?

"Really?" She asked. "Then how would you punish me?"

"Just as I was." He said and the tickle attack began again. Sarah shook and fought trying to break free, but the King was actually very strong and it was with no difficulty that he held his precious girl easily even as she struggled in his arms. After a time, she grew too exhausted to move at all, and collapsed from all her squirming, Jareth also relaxed his tickle spree. He fell down on his back beside her.

"After the peach incident I'm not sure what Karen and Daddy will do," She said after a while of comfortable silence.

"They understand your disorientation; they just don't know how to handle it." He said.

"It's not theirs to handle," She said. "But I know I must worry them."

"They love you precious," He said and turned to face her. For a moment his mind went blank and he forgot all that he was saying, her nose just grazed his. He quickly regained his thoughts, fast enough for her not to notice the gap in his speech. "They will always worry about you. From what I can tell, parents do not abandon their children to drown in their own perplexity."

"From what you can tell," She said directly. "But there are certain things parents don't understand. I'm not trying to sound like a whiny teenager, but it is a different generation of people, with new technologies and ideas, new outlooks on the world, their lives are totally unique and different."

"So much talk from one so young," He said, laughingly. "It seems you can perceive these ideas well?"

"Without a doubt, I've always been able to recognize the traits and feelings of those around me. Of course," She added quickly. "There are a few exceptions."

"Me?"

"Exceptions who make it particularly difficult to be ignored." She continued.

"Me?"

"A certain exception to say the least that makes it beyond Hell-like to understand completely."

"Me as well?

"A certain Goblin King is a prominent example of such an exception."

"It was me!" He cheered.

"Well who else could I be speaking of?" She smiled. Her eyes were wandering when the mistakenly ran across the clock. "Damn," She grumbled and stood from the bed. "It's noon."

Jareth frowned a bit. "So?"

"I am not a monarch; I have a life I'm trying to get back into the flow of." She said. "Karen and Daddy are being too generous with me, letting me sleep in and all that. But school starts soon…" She seemed to suddenly lose the tear-drop of enthusiasm she was sporting and a shadow crossed her face.

"You don't like school?" He asked.

"I love to learn," She answered with a soft smile. "It's only the teachers and students that I don't like."

"Ah," He sighed, understanding. But suddenly his tone changed, his eyes shut down and he was once again the Goblin King, no longer Jareth, the man she just had a pillow fight with. It unsettled her.

"Sir?" She asked.

"I'm sorry, Sarah, but I have to leave, something, I sense has come up," He said. His voice shocked her, it wasn't the cocky voice of the king during her journey, nor the sexy voice of her new found playmate, it was cold, like a winter wind, fleeting and near burning.

"A-alright," She said, doing a very poor job at not sounding very disappointed. Her next words sounded better as her acting skills kicked in. "I hope it's nothing too serious."

"Nothing that would be dangerous, just in need of me." He said. "Goodbye…precious." He stood and came near her. The touch was brief, but it left Sarah's cheeks aflame; he'd laid his lips lightly on her face, so gentle she could only just feel it. Then he was gone.

Jareth sat in his bedchamber, the lamp with the glass green shade lit and glowing. Spread in front of him were many sheets of paper, all written in every which language you could imagine. He was searching for one legitimate paper however, with a spell that he hoped could protect Sarah's memories and her life from his all powerful father. He found the slightly aging sheet and read then spell quietly for a moment, searching for loopholes the kind could squeeze through.

"I have a spell that can alter that one to my liking," Tiran was close behind him; laughter traces the sharpness of his words. "But by all means search! Search my child! Though it is a useless exercise."

"We both know my magic is greater then yours." Jareth said. "You can only alter, not demolish completely."

"Yes, but what fun altering can be! You may make a spell to protect her from whatever but I can make it so, while protected, she must be turned into a field mouse! See, fun!" Tiran laughed loud and clear.

Jareth tried very hard to focus on the spell, blocking out the gleeful ramblings of his Fae father. But soon the older man proved too eager.

"She would make an exceptionally ugly field mouse wouldn't she?"

"Father!" Jareth spun around and stared at him, a crystal in each hand out of angry habit.

"Why are you here my boy?" Tiran's change of tone was strange, like he had a true sympathy for his son. "Why are you not with her?"

"Because," Jareth paused and waited for the truth to leak out of him. It did. "I love her, I don't want to force her into a courtship, or spin lies around her, it was…is my nature but I couldn't do it to her. This game you've forced us into is not fair." Somewhere in his heart a little bird sang a song; _it's not fair!_ Such words.

"That is the way it is," Tiran spoke. "Though if I were you, I'd grant her as much truth as you could. She's a smart girl, give her hints, she can figure out the rest."

Tiran turned to leave but glanced back for a moment. "And Jareth? Your first born should be named for me." He with that he left.


	3. Chapter 3

**You humans haunt me –Death**

"Sarah, you have a letter." Robert stepped into his daughter's room, which was more unorganized then he'd ever seen it, if possible. Sarah was on her bed, reading, but there were dark rings under her eyes, her hair, which Karen had kindly braided that morning was disheveled and falling loose. The doctors called it post traumatic stress, a late reaction to the horror of the accident. Robert blessed each day of summer that school was still a long two months away, plenty of time, he hoped, for Sarah to heal and gather up the pieces she'd dropped. He waited for her to look up from her book. He was internally anguished at the sight of her eyes, cool as ice, framed by thick, damp lashes. Had she been crying again?

"A letter?" She said softly.

"Yes," He smiled gently. "From you mother."

A bit of Sarah's flare returned to her eyes, though it was an angry flare, it was a spark of her used-to-be and it thrilled her father.

"Mom?" She asked. Distaste, though hesitant was creeping its way into her words. He couldn't blame her completely.

"I'll leave it for you." He dropped it on the edge of her bed. "Are you hungry? I could make you lunch."

"No, no," She said. "I'm alright." Sarah was eyeing the letter precariously, like it was a packaged bomb with a dainty ribbon. He left her to it.

She didn't really want to open it. Mom hadn't spoken to her for almost a year. She wasn't upset. Just annoyed, that's all.

She finally got herself to open it, break the seal of the neat envelope, pull out the pretty stationary paper and unfold it.

"Dearest," It began:

_I've missed you my girl! Broadway just doesn't compare to spending a day with you. Very soon I'll be having a break from work and I'm going to be visiting you. I've already talked it over with your father, while I'll be staying at a nearby hotel you are free to come there, or I can come pick you up so we can see each other again. I have also heard from Robert about the accident, I wish I had been there for you then, and I cannot begin to explain how horrible it was to hear about it from Robert later. I'll be there soon, maybe by this coming Friday. I love you._

_ Your mother,_

_ Linda Raymond_

Sarah snorted. It was the accident. She felt like a bad mother so she was coming when her daughter got hurt. Still it was better then nothing. Sarah looked up at her calendar, today was Thursday, and she may be there tomorrow! Even though it was bitterly rejected, her happiness sprung from the depths of glumness and did a dance around her head.

She found after that, she couldn't even read Labyrinth and pine for her friend, so she laid back on her messy bed, watching the ceiling. She was slipping in and out of dreams and instances when Karen or Robert came in to try and get her to eat and abandoned the food to sit untouched on her desk. At one point she felt the room grow unbearably hot and she scurried, stumbled and tripped her way to force the window open. Outside the sun was melting away into dusk, letting the night darken the red-violet sky. She knew there would be no moon that night, so a full sky of glinting stars could be expected. She was so tired she thought she could already see those stars beginning to form in the rising darkness of her bedroom ceiling. She went back to her bed, pushing away the books from her bed and letting them thud on the floor around her.

She pulled a sheet over her body, the chilly night air from outside working fast to make the room much colder. She opened her drooping eyes and noticed; without a dreary care that her breath was coming from her quivering mouth in little white clouds. The room was growing colder and colder, until she shook so hard the bed creaked loudly.

She saw something move in the darkness, a figure, two, and then three. They moved like shadows, their tall bodies strong and beautiful. There were two women, one man. One of the woman, the shortest of all creatures, for creatures they seemed for Sarah could not name them as human, wore a hood and fabrics over her face. She was the most frightening of them all. The others were beautiful, with brawny healthy bodies, the man and the woman. The man was at least semi-dressed; Sarah gave an internal snort at the nude woman who seemed to think a few leaves worked as clothing. They were obviously Fae, but a much grander kind. Time and space, she could sense did not bother them, or impact them, they seemed to exist outside of it.

In the dim light she thought she could see some sort of dust, glittering sparkles moving from first the hooded woman , to the man and flowing through him and finally into the nude woman. It was altogether strange and frightening. Though she found the hooded woman most interesting Sarah couldn't keep her eyes on her for very long, like an invisible or inherited instinct ordered her to look away.

"She knows…" The hooded woman spoke, the voice a whisper of an unnamable tone.

"We know that," The nude woman, though more of a girl then a woman Sarah could now identify with the help of the sneering voice that sounded like any other teenage girl. "Adesse just said that Venire."

Adesse, she assumed was the man, who nodded vigorously.

"The Queen of Underground…" Venire, the hooded woman spoke softly and moved across the room to Sarah's bed. She lifted her arm and from the gaping bowels of her long sleeves a delicate pale hand, long fingered and with short child-like nails appeared. It reached for Sarah's face, and then drew a stray strand of her hair from her face, letting those strange icy fingers linger on her cheekbone.

"The Queen," A fourth voice came from the blending shadows behind Adesse and the nude woman.

"Erat," Venire turned from Sarah. "You called your husband here?"

"Darling," The nude woman, Erat, turned and looked to the shadows and held out her hand. From the darkness another figure appeared. Sarah at first saw a hand, reaching for Erat's hand, it was long, almost gnarled, but with smooth creamy skin. Then a sleeve, of black velvet, hanging low close to the ground. A hooded man stepped forward, donned in a huge black cloak of a material Sarah had mistaken for velvet. At a clearer glance she could see it was not velvet at all, nor any other fabric she could think of. It flowed as if it were made of mist or black stained clouds, creeping away from a thin tall body Sarah couldn't see.

He moved across the room, but neither fear nor love sprang from Sarah's heart. Though she knew his name without needing to question for it: Death. With one hand still holding Erat's, Death moved another hand forward, and laid it on Sarah's chest, directly over her heart.

"The Queen," He said again. "Will never be of my children, but the child of eternity."

There was a comical silence in which only the sound was of Erat snorting.

"And I thought I was the only one who stated the facts." Venire said.

Adesse threw back his head, shaking out his tawny curls in the process and laughed, loud and long. The sound was pleasing, almost musical. "That's it Venire! My clever wife!" He laughed again and wrapped his arms around the hooded woman's waist and picked her up to hold in his arms.

"Adesse please put me down, dear." She asked, even while he was still laughing. "It wasn't that clever, sweet."

"Oh, alright." He put her down, but Sarah got the feeling he wanted to snatch her back up as soon as he out her down.

Death's hand moved down from her breast and down to her lower belly. The hooded head tilted to the side, a gesture that suggested curiosity.

"What is it?" Erat asked.

All were silent so Death could speak in his whispery voice, which to Sarah's ears sounded like sandpaper and cracking flames. "Beautiful…beautiful gifted children…many of them." His hand settled over her womb, cold even through her clothes. Then it moved to the left, and ended on her hip.

Then to her horror, her hip began to burn, but she cold neither scream nor move, it hadn't been apparent to her that throughout this strange visit she had been suspended in some sort of spell that kept her from moving. Where his hand was the fire burned through her, deeper and deeper, cutting away layers of skin.

The pain broke all train of thought and she fell into a different world. She was sitting up in this world, with an infant on her lap, asleep. The child had ivory skin, a tuft of silky blonde hair, swaddled in satin clothes. She watched it closely, wondering where it came from when a signal went off in her head. Little red flags went up; this was her baby.

"Mama!" A little voice at her side said. She looked down to see a little girl, with raven dark hair like hers. She looked like a mini version of Sarah, the only difference being her eyes, one was hazel, the other blue. Sarah's heart rose to her throat.

"Mama!" Another voice on her other side. She turned to see a young boy, with blonde hair that was positively unmanageable, his eyes were green. He smiled at her with little rows of pointed teeth.

"Children!" A man's voice that she knew all too well. She looked up and saw the Goblin King, dressed in all leather with his blue cape. For a moment it seemed like he was just as lost as she was.

Jareth woke when the room grew icy cold, some foolish goblin must have used his window as an escape from the snippy chill the Labyrinth had been sporting like a cloak of winter. He grumbled crossly to himself and sat up, meeting a gust of wind that smelled of bitter cold. It was never a true snowy winter in Labyrinth; instead it was a chilly, windy mess, where the air was filled with speckles of sand blown from the deserts and the sky was sunless and pure white.

He inhaled deeply, but his nose caught a familiar scent upon the wind, something sweet, a delicate fragrance like dreams and meadow flowers. He squinted in the darkness, and from that seeping gloom which flowed from all the corners like a poisonous gas, he could make out the forms of three tall figures. Two women and a man. The Time People.

As realization hit him, his body, and his magic became immobilized, suspended as those strange lurking figures made their slow way across the room.

"Shall we?" The nude woman asked to the cloaked woman.

Wordlessly she nodded. Jareth was suddenly drowned in lights and colors and sounds he didn't understand. He landed it seemed quite abruptly in front of his throne room. Pausing t think he heard a sound, a delightful sound.

"Mama!" It was a child, _his_ child he could feel it.

He stepped into the room and wanted to cry; Sarah sat in his throne, an infant in her arms, two beautiful children beside her. He took a brief moment to watch them, then recognized the confusion on Sarah's face and called the children away. They obeyed, but as they passed him to leave each gave him and indifferent look, one of defiance and pride, like their mother often did. Rather then mother them with hugs and kisses like he wanted to at the sight of their rebuff he let them pass and turned to their mother.

Sarah had a bemused expression on her face, she cocked her head in question to Jareth. In answer he only shrugged and looked down at the baby she held. He came to sit beside her on the throne and put an arm around her.

"Do you think…?" Sarah asked.

"I suppose this is our future." He sighed and laid a gloved finger on the infant's forehead.

"Don't do that," Sarah commanded and moved to take the glove off of his hand. "If you're going to touch her, use your real hand."

The Time People and Death watched silently from their invisible posts as Sarah and Jareth handled their newborn. There was such love between them, such a natural passion. No one doubted anymore that their relationship would blossom like it was meant to. No one of course except Death.


	4. Chapter 4

**I know destiny and I know fate… you humans are lucky, you watch the world grow and change whereas I know what it will one day be and have no pleasure in the surprise –Venire**

Jareth was sleeping beside Sarah in his owl form. He had transported himself there upon waking from the glorious dream of the future and was cuddled up close to Sarah's beating heart. She was a heavy sleeper by nature and did not wake for many hours, nor stirred when he dared scratch gently at her cheek with his little talons. When at long last the sun had crawled up high into the sky and settled in mid-morning cradle did Sarah stir. This was late for her standards. Jareth could tell from her waking that something was wrong. She sat up slowly, blinking her eyes rapidly, rubbing her scar on her skull.

She did not even pay him mind as she tugged her blankets from her bed and wrapped them around her body to walk out of her bedroom. She was not, as she walked, even trying to conceal the fact that she was scratching the scar on her head with a vicious nail, unceasing even as a bit of blood tricked from the reopened scar. Jareth had the courage to follow her, hopping on his little bird feet, watching as she vanished behind the door of the bathroom. She was there for a long time. Long enough for her father to come, fully dressed for work, holding a snoozing Toby against his chest and warn her of his leaving. Long enough still for Karen to come knocking to warn her of her leaving as well to the mall to meet with some of Robert's business associates wives. To this came no answer but a grunt and Karen left, the hint of worry on her face enough to send owl-Jareth into a slight frenzy. As she vanished from the home he changed, inconsequentially, and nearly knocked the door open to find it was unlocked. He found Sarah leaning her head against the bathtub, looking to be soaked in her own sweat, the toilet not far from her full of her stomach acid, the only liquid she had to vomit up.

"Sarah," He kneeled alarmed at her side. But she made an angry face and pushed his hands away from her, her pale face turning a little rosy, only to drop back to a chalky pallor as she collapsed on the floor. This time when he reached for her she did not protest but instead croaked and vomited a mess of blood and bile. Jareth lifted her in his arms and carried her to her room where he stepped through the mirror without hesitation and transported them to his chambers. Once there he laid her on his bed and went to fetch a basin. Casting a quick spell so any contents felled into the basin would immediately vanish he set it near the edge of the bed. Then he proceeded to undress Sarah from her t-shirt and pants into a loose back nightshirt of his own that hung quite far on her body. He conjured bland bread and equally bland peach juice for her to sip. She picked her food vacantly and without vigor, he was almost provoked into spoon-feeding her against her moans and protests. Quite soon after he'd gotten her to eat bread she turned over in the bed and threw up the contents of food into the basin. It continued this way for nearly three hours until finally she slept in peace.

Jareth had slept too, without dreams of lovely cherub children or his precious swimming in the pools of his eyes. He had woken to midnight in Underground, Sarah asleep still looking smaller and paler then she had previously. Her body sparkled in the moonlight with the sheen of her sweat and the nightshirt he had given her had fallen loose off her shoulder, the collar so large, and she shivered with fever as the wind from the open French doors blew over the room. He moved first to close the doors and the heavy scent of her body settled in the windless air. It filled his head for a moment and his thoughts were unclear as he took weakening steps across the room to where she lay. He kneeled down beside her, just as her eyes began to open her weary eyes.

"Daddy?" She asked softly as she felt smooth hands brush the sweat-slick hair from her face.

"No, precious," He whispered. "It's Jareth."

"Oh, hello sir," She mumbled and tried to maneuver her weak body to look around the room. "Did you pull a good-housekeeping makeover to my room? Because quite frankly I liked my room the way it was before." She gave him a smile.

"Oh," He sighed, only half understanding the joke. "No, you're in Underground."

She frowned. Blinked and frowned deeper. "Did I wish myself here by mistake?" She said and tried to drag the heavy covers off of her. He only needed to grasp her wrist and gently push her back down and she gave in under the pressure of her weakness.

"You made no wish that I heard, but I found you ill in you're bathroom." He said and patted her cheek with a tenderness her face expressed that she had not suspected.

"So you took me here?" She said, her tone sounding almost peeved.

To his nod and smirk of a pleased grin she pursed her lips. "Well," She declared with as much authority as he himself possessed. "I feel fine now, so I better be getting back Aboveground." She made to sit up again when her face fell flat pale, grey, and she collapsed back into the pillows. "Maybe I don't feel exactly right." She grumbled.

Jareth cocked his head and his smile turned genuine. "Now," His tone mocking her authority. "I expect you shall be here until you are well, so I must make preparations for your visit in Underground." He said and stood. Worry passed over her sullen face.

"You're going to leave me?" She sounded like a child, more like her youthful counterpart he'd watched from afar. Her face still held the beauty of her adolescence, the flare of disobedience and inspiration. It was enough to make him smile quite large, exposing his pointy teeth to her. He had to remind himself she still was a child of sorts, in respects to the age of a Fae when in their prime of life in comparison to human age they were much the same, youths of their worlds. However when comparing their ages just by number, he was many years her senior and far more experienced in life then she was. That, he supposed was where his true infatuation for her lay, in her innocent youth, her humanly need for love in an early age for her years were short. But he reminded himself, she had forever to live. It was beyond him how he granted her immortality, but upon her leaving the Labyrinth she had somehow acquired the gift. When her memory had first been taken he did not know this. But now, with her sickness it became very clear. She was passing through the change from human to Fae. Unsure if he should tell her this or let it pass and feign cluelessness he promised himself to consider the argument. Tomorrow. For now, why not just spend quality time with his ill companion?

"I'm not much cop to leaving you just yet, what would you do if you needed to use the lavatory?" Her blush was faint but still existent.

She asked her next question tentatively. "Would you like to sit here with me?" She managed to wriggle her weak body over, giving him room to sit, even lay next to her. He was quick to join her, slipping his boots off and letting his vest fall to the floor. Dressed comfortably with only a poet's shirt and tight pants made of black leather he moved to join her and did not hesitate in wounding his arm around her shoulders to draw her to his chest. She tensed, but he supposed because of her illness she settled comfortably against his chest, her lips pressed on his collar bone, her eyelashes tickling the skin of his neck. He smiled.

Erat was angry. Death, Morty as she called him, knew he would serve many sexless years, maybe even a century of abstinence for this game.

"You are killing her." Erat fumed. "She is the most important person in the world, and you're killing her!" A book, never been opened before was thrown across the room and it came in contact with Morty's uncloaked head. He smoothed his white as snow hair down. It hung much longer then even his wife's, which was wispy red and hung down her back. He frowned to her, his child-bride.

"No reason to get upset darling, even Fae die." He said calmly. "No need to throw things."

A vase made it's way toward his head and he ducked. The useless piece of art crashed to shards against the wall. Erat made a sound like an animal growl and ducked from her husband's approaching form and scrambled under the bed. Rolling his white as marble eyes he kneeled down and peered under the bed at her. She was glowering from under the tassels of the bed quilt, her legs curled under her, one arm clawing the ground with sharp hard nails. He loved the vicious look in her eyes, but right now she was radiating such a dangerous aura he dared not reach for her. Instead he spoke.

"My love, why are you so angry?" He said.

"Because _my love_," She snarled. "Even with one of the most important women in the world you cannot break your nature and leave her be! She's changing into her prophesied form and you're treating her like any other changeling."

"She is just a changeling!" He yelled. He straightened and waited for her. Any time he raised his voice near her she would break. Break from her rambunctious child-like self and turn into something far more animal. And she did appear from her hiding place.

Her features sharpened and her ears had uncurled and pointed upward, direct and angry from the tufts of her bristling red as blood hair. She stood, much shorter then him, but her presence made his shoulders hunch and his eyes turn downward. A small pale hand with bedraggled long nails came up to gather his chin and turn it upwards so his iris-deprived eyes could stare into the glowing depths of her amber gold ones. It was here in their home, invisible to even the Fae that Death yielded to the Past, unable to win the battle over her ever growing power. As child-like as Erat could be, it was all a feign, a game to hide the sorrows and destruction of the Past that she had to carry inside her little body. Venire had it the worst, seeing all that would be, Adesse was a fool as always, loving but a great baboon with few virtues that played a role. But Morty knew his beloved, the youngest of the Time People, the strangest and most uncaring of what people thought of her child had the worst job of all of them. She carried every mistake, every war fought, and every memory of death inside her, bundled up in the most secret part of her heart.

He'd seen it sometimes, in her eyes when she thought he wasn't looking. Her smiles would fade and an ageless expression would cross her face, leaving her appearance to be that of a mother aching for a lost child. It pained him then as she crawled out from under the bed to see that look in her eyes.

"Venire said," Erat mumbled and dropped the hold on his chin. "That she could save the world, because she loved so much. Her example would change Underground, they'd move to Above ground and settle their wars…." A hiccup escaped from her and soon her words were woven with the gentle sobs of mourning. "Her love saves them. Please let her live!" She collapsed on the ground and cried against the floor.

Morty stood for a moment above her, feeling that his icy touch might shatter her weak heart. He sank down on his knees beside her and she crawled into his lap, the waves of his billowing clothes opening to let her settle next to his own naked body and close around her.

He wanted to tell her that he would let Sarah Williams live, that the goodness Venire could see would be real. But his dark side was his strong side, and he could not keep himself from trying to kill the mortal during her transformation. His only hope laid in Sarah herself, and Jareth's love to inspire her. The poison of his hand already infected her. At this point it was only a matter of waiting and seeing if she would be able to fight him off and live to bless both world with the infinite love of a savior.


End file.
